


Right Back Home (To You)

by helcinda



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9072460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helcinda/pseuds/helcinda
Summary: The parts of Russia that Yuuri loves are very far away from Japan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [these](https://twitter.com/saezutte/status/813033640791863296) [tweets](https://twitter.com/metis_ink/status/812887927638421504), and written almost entirely in email to oliviacirce, who also did an excellent beta (and saved me from kind of killing the entirety of Team Russia when my brain forgot words).
> 
> A text message, also known as the story of my life: "wtf this was going to be a cute litte fic, why are they bringing so many FEELINGS to the party"
> 
> Title from "If I Could Fly" by One Direction. (YOU BET I DID.)

Yurio texts Yuuri from where they're sitting across the table from one another during their lunch break. Yuuri ignores it in favor of looking up the just-released schedule for Nationals. He's still trying to decide how much he and Viktor are supposed to be talking about the fact that Yuuri has to go back to Japan for both Viktor's comeback and his birthday. Ignoring the topic entirely seems to be easiest, so he's just waiting to see if Viktor will bring it up at all. He's not worried for himself; he's skated without Viktor before, and he knows he can do it again. Viktor, though, has become a bundle of nerves, and Yuuri really isn't sure how much he's enjoying this role-reversal. 

Yurio texts again. _STOP IGNORING ME, SHITHEAD!!!!!_

Yuuri looks up and frowns at him. Yurio stabs his finger at Yuuri's phone. 

_you're done skating on the 24th  
If you're not back in Russia before the 26th I will personally hunt you down_

Yuuri smirks. _and do what_

Yurio actually slams his fist on the table. _BE HERE FOR HIS BIRTHDAY OR I WILL KILL YOU_

“Somehow I doubt that,” Yuuri mutters, just in time for Viktor to sit down and overhear. 

“Doubt what?” Viktor asks, bumping their knees together under the table. 

Yuuri looks up to see Yurio looking like his head might explode. “Nothing,” he says, nudging his phone across the table so Viktor can see his Nationals schedule. 

He watches Viktor look it over; the realization that Yuuri's competition is over on the 24th slowly blooms across his face. Instead of looking excited at the prospect, Viktor's face suddenly falls. “I can't come be with you at all,” he says sadly, lacing his fingers with Yuuri's. 

“What?” Yuuri says, incredulous. “You were never going to be able to come, did you really think you were going to just hop over to Japan for less than a day?”

Viktor looks shifty. “I mean, I was waiting for the schedule to come out, but...yes?”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “Viktor, I love you, but you're being an idiot. You can't leave in the middle of your comeback just to watch me skate the same program you've seen all year.”

Viktor honest-to-God pouts. “I'm your coach, I should be there for you.”

Yuuri shrugs one shoulder. “Takeshi already offered to stand in for you. I'll be okay.”

Viktor, somehow, looks even more upset. “I want you to need me there.” He drops his gaze to their linked hands.

And, well, Yuuri has had enough experience with this to know what Viktor means. “I'm sorry I can't be here for you,” he whispers, leaning in close. He can hear Yurio pretending to retch across from them. “But know that I'll be thinking of you every moment I'm away. And when I come back, we can compare our Nationals golds.”

“OH MY GOD,” Yurio yells. He kicks Yuuri in the shin, which makes Yuuri jump and slam his knee into the underside of the table. They glare at each other for a long minute before Yurio pointedly looks at Yuuri's phone, then leaves the table, muttering in Russian. 

Later, when Viktor is working with Yakov, Yuuri checks his phone to see that Yurio has emailed him a link to an itinerary for a flight to St. Petersburg the night of his free skate, leaving late enough that he could go straight from the arena. Yuuri bites his lip, watching Viktor run through his jump order again and again. He can see the nerves evident in every tiny movement. He double checks his calendar, then books the flight. 

*

Being back in Japan is wonderful. Yuuri's family and friends have all come to Osaka to support him; it's been a long time since they were all able to come to one of his competitions. He's trying not to think about how much he misses Viktor, but it's hard when all he can think about is how Viktor's presence in his life has made his career so much more fulfilling. 

He facetimes Viktor right before his short program. Viktor's competition starts tomorrow, and he's spent most of his time since Yuuri left putting the last few tweaks on his programs — things he had to forgo to help Yuuri with his own final preparations. Between their practice schedules, they've barely had time to call one another, their communication reduced to tired _love you_ s texted to each other at the end of their respective days. 

“Leave the call open,” Viktor says. “I want to watch you.”

“You aren't watching the stream?” Yuuri asks. They both planned to adjust their schedules to watch each others’ skates. Knowing they would be watching each other as best they could was helping boost Yuuri's confidence more than he thought it would. 

“It's on my laptop,” Viktor says. “Give your phone to Takeshi; I want to pretend I'm there, where I'm supposed to be.”

Yuuri can feel his eyes start to burn as he stares at Viktor on his tiny phone screen. Finally, he says, “You’ve got to stop making me cry before I take the ice.”

Viktor laughs, but Yuuri can tell he's a little emotional, too. “Go kill it, Yuuri. Bring home the gold.”

Yuuri feels warm from his head to his toes. Viktor is waiting for him in Russia, at _home_. “I'll make you so proud,” he promises. 

“You already make me proud,” Viktor says, looking a little teary himself. After a moment, he clears his throat. “Give the phone to Takeshi and pretend I'm slapping your ass as you get out there.”

Yuuri can feel his entire face turn bright red. “Oh my _God_ ,” he mutters, handing off his phone and giving the Makkachin tissue box a quick pat for luck as he takes the ice.

*

Yuuri practically runs off the ice after the medal ceremony, already trying to undo parts of his costume that won’t get him called out for public indecency. His mom and Minako are outside the athletes-only area, with his bag already packed and a taxi waiting just outside the door. He’s barely got one arm in his coat sleeve before he’s kissing them both goodbye, tossing his bag in the backseat next to him and asking the driver to take him to the airport as quickly as possible.

Once they’re out of the sea of traffic surrounding the arena, Yuuri checks his phone. He has about ten unread texts from Viktor, most of them in all capitals and containing so much happiness Yuuri can practically feel it radiating out from his phone. He texts back a response, finally feeling the full-body lassitude that hits him after a competition is over.

Viktor starts typing as soon as the message is marked as delivered. _Get some rest, I know you need it. You were amazing out there, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see it in person._

_We’ll make it up to each other in the Championships_ , Yuuri replies, smiling at the thought.

Viktor sends back a string of hearts, then, _Seriously, Yuuri, go to sleep ___

__Yuuri doesn’t trust himself not to spill his secret, so instead, he texts Yurio that he’s on his way and should arrive mid-afternoon on the 25th. There’s a kind of fuzzy glow growing in his chest at the thought that Yurio cared enough about Viktor’s well-being to demand that Yuuri move heaven and earth to be back in Russia. Yuuri’s sure he would have come up with this plan on his own eventually, but he likes that Yurio cares so much, no matter how much he yells that he hates Viktor, Yuuri, and Viktor and Yuuri together._ _

__Yurio texts back a terse _fine_ , and Yuuri dozes off in the back of the taxi, clutching his phone to his chest._ _

__*_ _

__He nearly misses his flight in Dubai, curled up in a corner of the airport trying to get just a little more sleep. Despite his exhaustion, the adrenaline from the competition and the thought of surprising Viktor had kept him from being able to relax enough to get more than a few minutes’ sleep on his first flight._ _

__He stumbles his way off the plane in St. Petersburg, groggy with a wildly varied sleep pattern in an unfamiliar environment, simultaneously still exhausted and overly wired from the past twenty-four hours. He barely notices Yakov and Yurio waiting for him outside the arrivals area; it’s only Yurio yelling, “Hey, MORON!” that gets his attention. Yakov smacks Yurio upside the head, but Yuuri is pretty sure that Yakov sides with Yurio rather than Viktor when it comes to his opinion of Yuuri._ _

__Yuuri pours himself into the backseat of Yakov’s tiny car; they explain that Viktor took the morning off and they have plans to meet him for some last-minute practice later in the afternoon. Yuuri can’t help but worry that Viktor will be disappointed that he’s there as a distraction; his free skate is tomorrow night, and he knows Viktor is going to be pretty anxious about it._ _

__When they get to the rink, Viktor is nowhere to be seen, and Yuuri sneaks off to one of the unused locker rooms, hoping to get a little bit more rest before Viktor shows up. Mila bursts into the room not long after he gets himself situated, startling Yuuri out of what was shaping up to be a pretty good nap. She’s got a bag full of gift-wrapping supplies and a mischievous look in her eyes._ _

__“Are we...wrapping presents?” Yuuri asks, wanting nothing more than a comfortable bed and twelve hours to himself, preferably with Viktor there for both of those things. He looks around the room uselessly, as if the perfect present for Viktor will materialize out of thin air. “I didn’t bring anything with me.”_ _

__Mila looks at him for a long moment. Yuuri hates those looks. She’s very Russian and inscrutable and he never knows if she’s just trying to decide what to say to him or if she’s silently judging him._ _

__Finally, she says, “We are wrapping a present, and don’t worry, all you need to do is stand there.”_ _

__Yuuri stares at her dumbly, feeling suddenly suspicious._ _

__“It’s you, you imbecile. None of us could figure out what to get Viktor that would top you flying back here in the middle of the night after a Nationals win, so we just decided you will be our collective gift. Now come here so I can wrap you.”_ _

__*_ _

__Viktor is on the ice, running through the step sequence for his free skate with Yakov, and the rest of Team Russia are scattered around the rink with an air of deliberate nonchalance. Yuuri doesn’t know how Viktor isn’t suspicious, but maybe this is just what happens around here for a birthday celebration._ _

__Yuuri has about five paper bows in his hair, and his skates, which Mila is holding, are wrapped up in the most hideous gift wrap Yuuri has ever seen. Silently, she shoves his skates at his chest, pointing at a bench where he can put them on out of Viktor’s eyesight. He’s not entirely sure what the plan is, here, but he’s willing to go along with it for Viktor’s sake. He’s barely gotten the last lace tied before Mila drags him to his feet, the clomp-clomp of his skates drowned out by Yakov yelling at Viktor in Russian. He doesn’t need any guidance from here, and he tugs his hand free so he can pull off his skate guards and hand them to Mila, who takes them with the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her face._ _

__Yuuri steps on the ice just as Viktor turns to run the sequence again, and the reaction he gets is almost comical in its intensity._ _

__Viktor stumbles, his toe pick catching in a groove in the ice, and he nearly goes down, but manages to recover. Yuuri is barely able to push off the boards before Viktor is suddenly _there_ , skating into his space and touching him all over: his face, his hair, his hands._ _

__“Happy birthday,” Yuuri says quietly, blushing a little and preening under the attention._ _

__“You’re here,” Viktor breathes, his eyes a little shiny with tears._ _

__Yuuri pulls him into a hug, burying his face in Viktor’s shoulder. A few of the bows get dislodged from his hair, falling silently around their feet, but Yuuri doesn't care. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed Viktor while he was gone, and suddenly, his mad dash across half the earth doesn’t feel so selfless._ _

__“Get a room!” Yurio yells from the bleachers._ _

__Yuuri pulls back, his face still feeling a little flushed. “I brought you something,” he says, trying to free one of his arms so he can reach it._ _

__“You brought me yourself, that’s all I care about,” Viktor says quietly, pushing off to skate backwards across the rink, not taking his arms away from where they're linked behind Yuuri's back. Yuuri has no choice but to follow him._ _

__Yuuri would willingly follow Viktor anywhere._ _

__“Wait, no, I actually did,” he says, gliding to a stop and pulling his medal out from where it was nestled in his pocket. He meets Viktor’s eyes. “I know how much you like to kiss gold medals.”_ _

__Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand, wrapping his fingers around Yuuri’s where they’re grasping the medal. He raises it to his lips, breath hot against Yuuri’s skin, and whispers, “Didn’t you realize, Yuuri?” He brushes his mouth across Yuuri’s ring. “It was only ever about this gold.”_ _

__Yuuri swallows. “Happy birthday,” he says again, instead of the million other things he wants to say._ _

__“Happy birthday to me, indeed.”_ _


End file.
